


Death on Two Legs

by gryffindorJ



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Exhibitionism, Fingerfucking, Frottage, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Rimming, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 08:11:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindorJ/pseuds/gryffindorJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being dead in the land of the living isn't what one might expect. Sirius discovers that some earthly ties are impossible to break, and there are consequences for flirting with Death</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death on Two Legs

He liked the nondescript pub, with its wobbly stools and floor so filthy not even the most powerful cleaning spell could get rid of the grime. Why should he care about the state of cleanliness? You don't drink off the floor. No one paid him any mind when he came here for a drink, which was probably the reason he liked it best. 

He was there more than he was at home. If he wasn't sleeping or working his much despised job, then he was usually arse-planted on the stool, nursing a gin and tonic, or a pint, or whisky, or pretty much anything that sounded good that day. It wasn't like the alcohol had that much of an effect on him. It was minimal at best. It was a habit; something to do to pass the time, which was greatly appreciated as most days dragged on for ages. 

The pub was fairly crowded that day with after-work patrons. Its proximity to the Ministry of Magic was what kept it in business. No one came here for the quality of service. Crowded or not, no one ever gave Sirius a second glance. His overly plain and all together unattractive appearance didn't welcome the long looks he had encountered in his youth. Plus, whether people knew it or not, they were afraid of him. Some part of their soul sensed what he was, and so they looked away out of fear of the unknown. Some days that was all right. Other days it was excruciatingly lonely. 

As a crowd of loud patrons finally left, Sirius raised his finger for another drink. Had he not looked up at that moment to order a drink, he would have completely failed to notice the man sitting at the other end of the bar. Something about him caught Sirius's attention. It wasn't the way he fiddled with the rim of his pint glass, nor the way he stared like a beaten dog into the dregs of the glass. It was his hair; it was undeniably Potter hair. 

Sirius turned his head all the way to make sure it was who he thought it was. Bloody hell, it was. Harry was sitting only five stools away from him. 

Sirius always did his best to completely avoid people like Harry. People who could remind him that he was once alive, and that there were still people in the world who meant a great deal to him. Actually, that was only Harry, if Sirius thought about it. Luckily, it was usually easy to avoid Harry. He wasn't the dingy pub sort, which would have been a great knock to James's pride. People in Harry's life weren't dying left and right either, at least not now, since that Voldemort thing was over. Sirius himself had been among the number of people who had dropped like flies because he had loved Harry so much. 

"Is there something I can do for you?" 

Sirius's eyes, which had glazed over, snapped to attention; Harry was talking to him. 

"Huh?" 

"You were staring at me, and I was wondering if there was something you needed?" Harry said, his voice tinged with a drunken slur and annoyance, and his eyes looking a bit glazed over. He had a few days' growth on his chin. It caught Sirius off guard for a moment, Harry looking so much like a grown man. Even more grown since the last time he had seen him. 

"No, sorry, mate," Sirius said, thinking quickly to cover up the fact he had been staring. "You look like hell."

Harry snorted. "Good. Then I look exactly how I feel." 

"Let me buy you another drink then." Sirius turned to the bartender. "Alan, get him a whisky."

"I wasn't drinking whisky." 

"If you want to keep feeling like hell, then you have to switch to something stronger. That ale isn't going to do the trick," Sirius said. He felt himself smile at Harry in a friendly sort of way. He shouldn't be smiling at Harry or buying him a drink, or even talking to him; it broke about every fucking rule there was. 

"Expert on getting pissed?" 

"Something like that." Sirius tried to look away and get back to his own drink. He really should have left the pub altogether. However, curiosity kept him stuck to his stool; he was too interested in simply looking at his godson to leave now. "So, why is a young bloke like you sitting here looking like shit?"

"Young bloke? Aren't you a bit young to be calling me young?" Harry said, raising his brow. 

Shit! Sirius had forgotten for a minute what he looked like. His ordinary, ugly face looked like he was only twenty-five, if that. "Nah, I'm not too young. I drink enough so I'm usually completely pickled. It preserves my youthful looks," Sirius said with a laugh, trying to hide his stupid mistake. 

"Being pickled sounds like a good idea right about now." Harry shot back his drink in one quick motion, and didn't even wince when he ordered another one. Sirius smiled, impressed at his drinking prowess. 

"Shit day?" Sirius asked. 

"Shit life," Harry answered, and the words stung Sirius. When Sirius allowed himself to think of the people he loved, which was never, he had always imagined them as happy. 

"Oh," was the only response Sirius could come up with. For some reason, his tongue with its usual snappy replies wasn’t working too well right now. Maybe the alcohol had started to work?

"I didn't mean that," Harry said somewhat apologetically, as if he had offended Sirius. 

"No, it's okay, I—" 

"My best mate is getting married, and his mum was very clear on her feelings about me being best man," Harry said. "Ever since I decided I really didn't want to date his sister, she's pretty much hated me." 

"You shagged your best friend's sister? Nice work," Sirius said proudly, and Harry laughed. 

"No, didn’t want to shag her. She's not my type." 

"Ugly?"

"No. When it came down to it, I realized I preferred her brother, and pretty much any other male to her." Harry tossed back another drink, and Sirius felt a lump rise in his throat. Harry was admitting too much to a complete stranger in a pub, most likely because he was angry, sad, and drunk - a lethal combination. 

"Oh, so you're upset your best mate's getting married and you can't have it off with him anymore," Sirius said.

"No, not that brother. A different one. Not that any of that matters now. It's been years, and his mum's still in a twist about it." Harry nodded a thank you to the bartender for refilling his glass. 

"Well, fuck her then," Sirius advised, and Harry winced. "No, not actually fuck her. Forget the whole damn thing and find some dashingly handsome man to shag." 

Harry was laughing. "Easier said than done." 

"Who wouldn't want to shag you? You're handsome and famous. Everyone would want to shag you."

"Oh." Harry probably would have turned red had his face not already been flushed from drinking. "You know who I am?" 

"Hard to hide that damn scar."

"Right." Harry self-consciously pushed his fringe over his forehead. "I guess since you know my name, I should ask you yours." 

Sirius almost choked on his drink. This had gone on far too long. He should have left the moment he realised it was Harry sitting at the bar. Sirius had probably broken half the rules in the past ten minutes. "It's—" Sirius thought quickly to the most recent name he had on his Muggle driving permit paperwork, "—Stuart." 

"Nice to meet you." Harry put out his hand, and Sirius recoiled backwards. He could not touch Harry. That would be far too much. Harry's eyes were kind and inviting, and it made Sirius feel like a real bastard to not reach out and shake his hand. 

Suddenly Sirius's watch gave an ominous tick that only he could discern. It was a saving grace because he obviously wasn't able to walk away from this of his own free will. Sirius looked at the large silver watch on his wrist. "Sorry, I have to go. Going to be late." Sirius threw enough galleons on the bar to pay for his and Harry's drinks. "Keep drinking, it's on me. And remember: find a good-looking bloke to shag." 

Sirius stood up and all but ran from the pub. 

He was around the corner and almost completely out of breath before he stopped. He slouched over with his hands on his knees, breathing deeply, his head spinning from his conversation with Harry. He shouldn't have done that. He shouldn't have done any of that. 

"Fuck," he breathed. He would just forget about it. Forget about fucking up, forget about seeing Harry, forget about the whole damn conversation. 

Tick. 

His watch called to him. He had work to do. 

Sirius took a deep breath and looked at his watch. Owen Snodgrass, Bath. Sirius straightened himself up and took a deep breath. He Disapparated to Bath, on his way to take this old fellow's soul. 

~*~*~

 

Tick! 

Sirius flicked his wrist, to look at his watch. Arnold Philpott, Whitburn. He pulled a galleon out of his pocket and threw it on the bar as he stood to leave. This was only his second time in the pub in over two weeks. 

Initially, he hadn't returned because he was afraid Harry might come in looking for him. Even though he couldn't imagine why Harry would want to find some random bloke that he'd talked to one evening in a pub, he was still cautious. He had made a monumental mistake chatting with him and he wouldn't let it happen again. When he finally did return to the pub, he hid in a corner with his cloak pulled up as high as it would go. He hadn't seen nor heard a thing about Harry this time or last time. 

Sirius Apparated outside of what looked like a small garden shed. He peeked around the corner to see an old stone house about fifty meters away, with a light on in one of the upstairs rooms. He pulled his cloak tighter around him as the cold damp nipped at his exposed skin. "Fucking Scotland," Sirius grumbled under his breath. 

There was some sort of movement coming from the upper floor of the house; Arnold was probably in there. He started walking around the shed, trying his best not to trip over the rocks of the hillside. Luckily his knack for stealth and sneaking about was one that he'd retained even after death, or whatever this existence was. 

He was near the back of the house, and began to walk towards the door round the front. He was about to turn the corner when he was hit full on from behind. The wind knocked out of him, he was easily tackled to the ground, his face shoved into the mud. "What the hell?" he tried to yell from the ground, but with the lack of air and with his face and mouth covered, it came out as more of a wheezing mumble. He struggled to get up, but whoever had tackled him kept him pinned to the ground. 

"Don't move and keep your mouth shut," a man growled in Sirius's ear. Sirius felt the tip of a wand poking into the middle of his back to go along with the instructions. 

This was a bloody nightmare. This was the part of Sirius's job that he hated: when people got in the way. It wasn't often a problem—he was nearly invisible unless he purposely drew attention to himself—but it had happened a few times over the years. 

Taking a deep breath, Sirius used all his strength to roll to his back. 

"I told you not to move," the man whispered angrily as Sirius tried to untangle him from his body.

"Fuck you." Sirius shoved the man, who was now raising his wand, probably to stun him. Sirius raised his own wand and thought 'Protego' before the man's spell hit him. In the light of the spells, Sirius could clearly see the man's face. 

"Harry?" Sirius felt his heart leap out of his chest. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Harry looked confused for a moment and squinted, looking at Sirius's face. "You! From the pub." Before Sirius could answer, Harry cursed under his breath and said, "Oh shit, you're a part of this!"

"I'm not a part of anything," Sirius said indignantly. He stared up at Harry, and took in his attire: dark woollen knickerbockers and a plain matching robe, and just to the left of his silver belt buckle was his badge. Fuck, Harry was here to work. 

"Then what the hell are you doing here, and answer quickly or your arse will be in Azkaban before you know it." Sirius gave an internal shudder at Harry's threat.

"I'm here…working." 

"Doing what exactly?" Harry demanded. 

"None of your God-damned business." Sirius had to get away from Harry and do his job quickly. "Now leave me alone and go back to your undercover work or whatever it is you were doing. I promise I won't get it in the way, and you won't see me again."

"Nice try. I've been working on this case for months, and some low-level, idiot criminal isn't going to screw this up!"

"Low-level? Criminal?" Sirius said. "You think—" Suddenly an explosion went off in the upper room of the house. "Shit, I'm late!" Sirius pushed past Harry and ran into the house. 

Harry followed quickly behind him as Sirius ran into the room where the explosion had occurred. Behind Harry, at least ten other Aurors had also followed. The room was filled with crates and what looked like insulated boxes. The moment they all rushed into the room, a fight broke out. Spells flew right and left, boxes exploded, and men were running about, trying to tackle...well, someone. Sirius wasn't paying much attention. In all the commotion, no one had really noticed him. He looked around, trying to decide who, out of the fifteen or so people in here, was Arnold Philpott? 

Crouching near the floor to get a better view of the room, and avoid the mayhem around him, Sirius finally found who he was looking for. His name stood out from the badge on his belt. He was a young kid, probably not even a full Auror yet. Sirius cursed under his breath. He always hated when it was a kid. 

Curses flew every which way, and shrapnel littered the air. It was at these times, in the heat of battle, that Sirius found it was best to change into Padfoot. He could move closer to the ground and be quick. 

His Animagus form was something he got to keep. James had figured that it's form was the main reason he'd been tipped for the job. He hadn't been dead an hour before he was suddenly being sent back. Sirius didn't remember much about being dead, but James had been there, laughing at the fit Sirius had thrown over having to be this...being.

On four paws he moved almost seamlessly through the spells and people fighting. Things always slowed down for him right when he was about to do his job. He was not quite invisible, but close enough. He manoeuvred right next to Arnold, who was fighting a big, sweaty-looking man. Sirius could still see the signs of teenage acne on the kid's skin. A detail like that certainly didn't make the job any easier. Just as Sirius pressed his head under Arnold's hand, he heard someone yelling, "MOVE!"

He looked to his left and saw Harry turning towards them, but before Harry was able to take a step forward, his eyes suddenly landed on Sirius. He stopped and stared at him, as if seeing a complete anomaly. Sirius looked at him, and for the briefest of moments, their eyes met. 

Tick! 

It was time; the watch commanded it. Arnold's fingers clenched at the fur on the back of Sirius—no—Padfoot's neck. The soul left with Sirius, and the spell would take care of Arnold's body. 

As Arnold's shell dropped, Padfoot led Arnold from the room and changed back to himself. Arnold's hand felt like an elastic band—not literally, but it was what Sirius thought of when he touched him. He couldn't explain it exactly, but every soul had a different texture from the last. 

Arnold didn't say anything—they rarely did—and Sirius Disapparated them away, taking Arnold to the next existence where he would leave him to those who were waiting. Sirius would then return home to his non-existent existence. 

With Arnold now gone and taken care of, Sirius was anxious to go home. Thoughts of Harry looking at him were still swirling in his mind. He appeared in the alley behind his flat, heart still thudding loudly in his chest. He looked around to make sure he was alone before he slunk down the dirty street and flopped against the brick wall. He put his head between his knees, trying to keep it from spinning. He shouldn't have felt so terrified and out of place, but no one had ever watched him before. No one had ever really seen him and watched what he could do. He was certain Harry had seen everything. Every. Thing. Now things were really fucked. He was sure he would be hearing about this. 

~*~*~

 

The next morning, Sirius had an owl tapping on his window, rousing him from his fitful sleep. The note was from his contact in the Department of Mysteries; apparently Sirius was late for their meeting. He threw on a shirt and denims, and had barely got his shoes on when he left for the Muggle café where they were meeting. 

The Unspeakable sat at a corner table, smearing a large dollop of marmalade onto his toast. He didn't even bother to look up when Sirius walked up to the table. 

"I ordered you some coffee. Figured it was a late night," he said as he put the spoon back in the jar. Sirius sat down as the Unspeakable reached over and threw the morning copy of the The Daily Prophet onto the table. The headline blazed across the top: "Auror Killed in the Line of Duty". Below that, another headline read: "International Smuggling Ring Broken Up: Harry Potter Lead Investigator".

"Um, yeah," Sirius said noncommittally as he reached for the cream, and absently poured it in his coffee. 

The meeting went like every other monthly meeting went. The Unspeakable asked if Sirius had enough money, if there were any problems he should know about. Sirius gave all the usual answers as he ate his breakfast. Sirius generally enjoyed these meetings. His first Unspeakable had had a stick so far up his arse that Sirius almost made it his goal to nark him off on purpose, usually about things the bastard couldn't do a thing about. He would blow his money for the month in a week—on ridiculous things like chewing gum and films—just so he could go see his Unspeakable and see the veins pop out on his neck when he told him he needed more money. Or he'd mention something about being bored and ponder taking a few Muggle souls here or there, just to spice things up. 

Sirius didn't deal in Muggles. Wizards only—and the occasional squib. On days when he was truly bored, he thought about Filch, and how, when his time eventually came, he would make sure to go as the Grim just to scare the soul out of the old bastard. 

Sirius's favourite time had been when he'd decided he wasn't going to take any souls, and just ignore his watch. Souls had started backing up, and his Unspeakable had become more and more angry with him. He had screamed and yelled and threatened Sirius, but none of it had worked. After three days, the prank had got old, and Sirius decided it was better just to listen to the watch. Souls, when their time is up, start to smell worse than cream past its expiration date, and he'd finally got to the point where he couldn't stand the stench anymore. When his first Unspeakable retired, got reassigned or whatever it was that happened to him, Sirius tried his best to get roaring drunk and celebrate. 

This Unspeakable was different. Sirius liked him. Over the years, Sirius would go so far to say they had become friends of a sort. He didn't boss Sirius around or try to act as if he was in charge. Ultimately, it was some unknown force in charge anyway. The Ministry only tried to act like they had some kind of power over Sirius's task, but all they really did was to keep Sirius from exposing himself for what he really was, and keep his existence, such as it was, a secret. That was why they kept his Gringotts account full. They couldn't have him distracted by some piss poor day job.

His current Unspeakable seemed to grasp that his job was fairly straightforward, and never tried to control Sirius in any way. For that, he grew on a Sirius a little bit. It also helped that he was Sirius's only normal contact in the magical world...well, in the entire world. Sirius tended to avoid Muggles, even more than he avoided magical people, because he felt even more like an outsider around them. 

After a long look, his Unspeakable put some money on the table and stood to leave. "All right then, if there isn’t anything else, I'll see you next month." 

Sirius knew that eventually someone would find out he had spoken to Harry, and that somehow Harry had been able to see him. His stomach twisted in a knot thinking about what would happen when they did find out. Would they make him take Harry so that the problem was gone? Before his contact could leave, Sirius decided he had to say something. 

"Dean?" Sirius cleared his throat, and Dean looked down at him. "What if someone saw me?" 

"People see you all the time. It's not a big deal." Dean shrugged his shoulders. "You aren't invisible." 

"No, someone saw me. Right before this bloke ate it," Sirius confessed. Dean sat back down, looking at Sirius as if expecting more details. "Well, I'm not completely sure if they saw me, ah, 'working', but they looked me right in the eyes." 

"Did they say anything to you?" Dean clasped his hands in front of him. 

"No, I got my arse out of there quick as I could."

"Is it someone you knew?" 

"Yes." 

"Who?"

"I don't think I'm really supposed to tell you, because you aren't supposed to know who I really am." 

Dean narrowed his eyes at Sirius then stood back up. "Don't let it happen again. See you next month." Dean walked out without giving Sirius so much as another glance, as though he was thoroughly unconcerned with what Sirius had said. 

Sirius pushed his food away. He wanted to go to the pub and get a drink, but if Harry had any sense in his head at all, that would be the first place he'd look for Sirius. 

Sirius pulled the Prophet towards him and scanned the front page. Why did that Auror have to die while working? Why couldn't he have had an aneurysm or something? 

Fate was a bitch. 

Tick! 

As Sirius walked back to his flat, his watch called to him. He looked at his wrist, the name moving into place. Norma Collins, London. Sirius sighed almost happily. When a name in London came up in the middle of day, it meant an old bitty was about to die in a ward at St. Mungo's. Today was a day that Sirius could appreciate the tedium of the job. 

Fate, as it turned out, was a fucking bitch. 

When Sirius Apparated, he expected to find himself somewhere in St. Mungo's, but where he ended up was the atrium at the Ministry of Magic. Sirius walked up to the Watch Wizard behind the desk. 

"Pardon me? Could you tell me where to find Norma Collins?" Sirius said in his most bored tone. 

"Level one, Minister of Magic's office," the guard rattled off, not even bothering to raise his head. 

Sirius flicked his wrist to look at his watch and check the time. With his luck, he'd probably walk past Harry on his way to work. He pressed a dial and the time flipped into the display, replacing the woman's name. It was after nine. Harry should be in his office by now. Sirius sighed in relief, walked to the lifts, and pressed the button for Level One. No one in the lift even bothered to glance at him, which was comforting. He still retained his obscurity.

The voice announced his stop, and he stepped out of the lift onto the lush purple carpet. Directly in front of him was long row of secretaries sitting at their desks . He walked along, looking at their name tags. When he found Norma Collins, he stopped and looked up at her. She was a very elderly but smartly dressed woman who sat dictating to her quill. 

"Norma?" Sirius asked in his kindest voice. It was always best to make sure the person matched the name on the desk. 

"Yes?" She looked up at him. Sirius reached out and gently touched her hand. Just as he was about to turn to go, he heard the secretary to his left speak. 

"Yes, Minister, Mr. Potter will be here shortly for your meeting. Oh my God! Norma!" 

Sirius and Norma stood together, apart from the crowd moving around Norma's lifeless body. Norma held tight to Sirius's hand as he led her away. Holding her hand felt like a tightly coiled spring. Usually the older women like Norma held tight to Sirius and stared at him, and she was no different. The women especially would stare at Sirius, gazing at him as if they had never seen anything quite so lovely. Sirius figured it was the only time he must look like himself; no sane person would give his new face a second glance. 

He led her away as the doors from the lift at the far end of the hall opened. They had to take the lift because Apparating was restricted on this level. As the golden grill of the lift glided open suddenly Sirius saw Harry stepping out of it. He must have noticed something was wrong because he immediately sprinted toward Norma's prone body. Sirius took a deep breath at the sight of Harry, even though he knew he truly was invisible when accompanying a soul. 

As if time slowed to a crawl, Harry and Sirius passed one another. Harry glanced almost absently to his side. His eyes widened in shock and his head turned. Sirius looked back at Harry, unable to keep his eyes from him. Their gazes locked, the green of Harry's eyes piercing Sirius to his very core. Then, as if to catch up with itself, time swiftly sped up. The next thing Sirius knew, he was standing in the lift with Norma, and Harry was down on his knees trying to resuscitate a lifeless body. 

He wished Harry wouldn't try. He'd probably tried the same useless act last night on Arnold's body. Sirius wasn't callous; he just knew a lost cause when he saw one, and obviously knowing the person was dead helped in this situation. 

Sirius rode the lift with Norma down to Level Nine, and led her down the corridor to the Department of Mysteries. They passed two people who didn't even so much as look their way as they made their way to the blue torch-lit circular room, and as always, the correct door opened right away for Sirius. Sirius called the room the crematorium, not because he knew what it actually was but only because nothing ever came back from that room. He wasn't allowed to go through the door himself, only the person he brought. He only knew that it was the end for him, and possibly the start for someone else, or maybe the end for them, too.

Norma walked forward, leaving Sirius behind. He exhaled loudly, relieved that he had got her here, and now he could leave. He wanted to go home and sleep, to forget that he had seen Harry last night, and certainly forget the hallucination he'd had upstairs, imagining that Harry had looked at him—had actually seen him. Again.

Sirius took the stairs up to the ninth level, two a time. He tried to Apparate home, but it wouldn't work on this level either. "Sodding Ministry and their sodding rules." He would have to do it from the lift. The golden grills slid open and Sirius jumped on before anyone who was on the lift could even get off. Moving too quickly, he slammed right into someone, practically knocking them over. 

Sirius was about to apologise, but the words got stuck in his throat.

Harry untangled himself from Sirius. "What the hell are you doing here?" 

"Leaving," Sirius said, preparing to Disapparate.

"Apparation doesn't work in the lifts," Harry said, jabbing the buttons to stop the lift. "Expelliarmus!" Sirius's wand flew out of his hand, and Harry swiftly caught it. 

"Give that back," Sirius growled, and took a step toward Harry. What the hell was Harry thinking disarming him? He wanted his wand back so he could get out of here, and would have happily cursed Harry to do so.

"Not until you tell me who you are, and if you take one step toward me, I'll stun you and take you downstairs to the cells." Harry pointed his wand directly at Sirius's face. 

"Who do you think I am?" Sirius asked impatiently. 

"I thought you were a drunk hallucination at first, until I realized I still had a pocket full of galleons even after I drank 'til I was nearly unconscious. Then I thought you were part of the smuggling ring from last night, and now I know that's not it either." 

"So who am I then?"

"A spy most likely," Harry replied, and Sirius immediately laughed. "Who do you work for?" 

"No one ever accused you of being clever, did they, Harry?" Sirius snorted. He was trying to remain calm and he didn't think he was doing too bad a job. Had he been upset, he would have called Harry a 'fucking idiot' just like he deserved. "I'm not a spy or criminal, nor do I give a shit about you. Seeing you in the pub was a coincidence, seeing you last night was an accident, and being here today is a fucking nightmare. Now give me my wand!" 

"You didn't answer the question," Harry said through clenched teeth. 

"My name is Stuart just like I told you," Sirius lied, but was able to deliver the answer convincingly enough. 

"Who do you work for?"

"No, you said answer the question and you would give me my wand back." Sirius advanced on Harry. 

"Step back!" Sirius froze at Harry's command. 

"Why haven't you cursed me, yet? You don't think I'm a spy. It's some bullshit you pulled out of your arse to try to get me to admit something. Give me my wand. I won't leave." 

Harry's jaw flexed and clenched. "Tell me your real name and then you can have it." 

"Yama, Odin, Angeu, Thanatos. Take your pick. I have a lot of names. Now give me my wand." 

Harry was good to his word, and held out Sirius's wand. "I don't know why I'm trusting you."

"Because you know me better than you think." Sirius snatched his wand before Harry could change his mind and pull it away. 

"Now that you have your wand back, where should I meet you tonight so you can give me a real answer instead of this Thanatos crap." 

"Why should I talk to you more than I already have?"

"You owe me." Harry acted as if that was easy enough to understand.

"I don't owe you."

"The way I see it, you were at the scene of a death last night, and I found you lurking about the Ministry when a death's just happened here. I could've had you carted off to Azkaban already." Sirius glared at Harry. Leave it to a fucking Potter to shove you into something. Harry raised his brows, waiting for Sirius to respond, and Sirius couldn't help but smirk. 

If only Harry knew the altogether potentially hazardous thing he was asking for…yeah, he'd probably be asking for this anyway. "I'll meet you at six outside the Visitors' Entrance." 

"How do I know you'll be there?" Harry asked. 

"Because with my luck, we'd run into each other sooner than later so I best get it over with," Sirius huffed. "Now let me leave."

"Fine. I'm late to a trial anyway." The doors reopened, and Harry gave Sirius a superior look and walked away.  
Sirius felt completely exhausted after he got back to his flat. He wanted to lie down and go to sleep for the rest of the day, but his mind was reeling. He'd down a couple shots of whisky if he thought it would help, but it never did. It was altogether unfair that he still had the human frailties of fatigue and hunger, but got none of the joys of drinking. His tolerance for alcohol had increased five-fold. It took all the fun out of things if you had to drink massive quantities and then piss half a dozen times before you felt adequately tipsy. 

Coffee was the same way. If he was tired and tried to drink a few cups to wake up, it didn't work. He could drink three pots and still fall asleep without a problem. It annoyed him, and if he thought too much about it, he would only aggravate him more. 

It had taken five full years to get used to all the ins and outs and damned bloody rules he had to live with. He had tested them all, every single one of them. Well, except for the 'stay away from humans' rule. Until now, avoiding the living hadn't been a problem. It was too painful to see people living an actual life, something he'd been robbed of on more than one occasion. 

Sirius paced his flat, trying to think of what he was going to tell Harry. The truth wasn’t an option at all. Sirius didn't give a shit what happened to himself, but he cared what happened to Harry. The risk of some sort of punishment didn't scare him; he was already dead, after all. But the possibility of causing harm to Harry frightened him enough to want to follow that rule. He paced and paced; around the sofa, into the bedroom, then back out again, trying like hell to think of a solution. 

Sirius eventually felt so agitated, he sat down on the sofa and leaned his head back against the cushion. He checked his watch: five minutes before he was supposed to meet Harry. He should have thought of something by now. After a few deep breaths he stood up and went to grab his cloak. Thinking was overrated; he'd figure it out once he got there. 

When he arrived, Harry was already waiting. He looked confident and composed, an amused expression on his face. In the pub, Sirius had told him he was handsome, but it wasn't until this moment—seeing him standing there with that look on his face—that Sirius realized how much he had meant it. 

"Stuart," Harry said with something akin to a snort. Sirius should have cursed him for the cheek, but under normal circumstances it would have amused him. Harry's smile and tone pulled Sirius in. 

"Potter." 

"Thought I was going to have to hunt you down," Harry admitted. Sirius laughed. He'd have liked to seen Harry try and find him. 

"I gave you my word that I would be here." 

"Right." Harry motioned for Sirius to walk with him, and shoved his hands into his pockets to protect them against the cold. Sirius wasn't fooled. He knew Harry didn't quite trust him and was keeping his hand clasped around his wand. Sirius had to restrain himself from poking fun at Harry; he couldn't allow himself to become comfortable with him. 

They had walked two blocks in silence before Harry finally spoke. "Hungry?"

"Um, sure," Sirius said, a little confused that Harry wasn't getting straight to the point. 

"Let's go here." Harry gestured at the Pret A Manger on the next corner. "You don't mind a Muggle place do you?"

"Nope, not at all."

They each grabbed a sandwich and a drink. Sirius noticed Harry grabbed two bags of crisps. One was Croxton Manor cheddar and red onion, and the other was prawn.

"Are you going to eat the crisps together?" 

"Yeah, why?" The corners of Harry's mouth turned up with what looked like a little bit of bashfulness. 

Sirius couldn't help but smile as well. James would mix his food in disgusting ways too. Potatoes with treacle, rolls with peas on them, toast with marmite dipped in tea, fish with a big thick slice of cheddar; Sirius could make an endless list. If the thought of eating it made your stomach turn, James loved it. "You have an interesting palate is all," Sirius answered, and then made a face like he was about to be sick everywhere. 

"Ha ha, you should try it. They taste fantastic together." 

"No thanks."

They paid for their food and agreed to stay there to eat, as it was only getting colder outside. Sirius began to unwrap his sandwich when Harry finally got to the point. 

"Now that we're sitting, are you going to tell me who you are?" 

"I already told you."

"No, who you really are."

"Why don't you tell me who you think I am?" Sirius smiled. During moments like this, he wished he looked like himself. His smile was much more effective that way. "And don't say a spy." 

"Right, you aren't some sort of international man of mystery," Harry said with a bit of a laugh. 

"Not quite."

"I'm all out of ideas." Harry shrugged and took a bite of his sandwich. Sirius had to give it to Harry. Playing stupid and trying to get Sirius to give something up was a clever little game. Sirius had been thinking of doing that himself. 

"I don't believe you one bit, Potter. So why don't you tell me what you think, otherwise I don't think we are going to get very far." Sirius took a large bite of his own sandwich. He hadn't eaten since his meeting that morning, and he was ravenous. 

Harry swallowed and said, "All right then, let's see what I know. You don't work for the Ministry, even though I saw you there today. You didn't go to Hogwarts because I checked their school records for a Stuart. Two of them work for the Ministry, I know another one, and three of them don't fit your age range. That's easily solved though. You could have been educated at another school." He took a sip of his drink and raised his eyebrows, but Sirius remained silent. 

"Right then. You're comfortable going to a Muggle place, so it's likely you're Muggle-born or one of your parents is from a non-magical family. You show up at odd times, which makes me think you're some sort of criminal, even though I haven't found a description of someone like you in the Ministry records. You're dressed well, so you have money enough, but you're likely not aristocratic or independently wealthy. How I'm doing so far?"

Sirius had lowered his head when Harry had said 'Muggle-born', and kept it down, staring at his food. He couldn't look at Harry or he would burst out laughing. He hadn't realized how well he had covered his tracks. Feeling confident in his ability to hide facts from Harry, he decided it wouldn't hurt to be a bit cocky about it. 

"You're total crap at this, so far," Sirius said, and grinned. 

"Bollocks!" 

"No, I don't work for the Ministry, technically, so you're half right there. But everything else is wrong." 

Harry took another drink of his Coke and rolled his eyes at Sirius. 

"All right then, I'll prove it. My family bloodline is older and more detailed than you can imagine, there are no torches in the corridors at Azkaban because the Dementors don't need to see where they're going. That's mostly likely changed since they aren't there anymore, but it was that way for a long time. I've never worked a traditional job a day in my life, and Argus Filch is a sadistic bastard who would chain up students if he could." 

Harry narrowed his eyes, but other than that he looked unruffled about being wrong. "Someone could have told you that about Filch."

"The order of the tables in the Great Hall is Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. There are portraits of all the past headmasters in the Headmaster's office and they're a load of nosy buggers as well. There's a statue of Rowena Ravenclaw in the Ravenclaw Common Room, and they say the Forbidden Forest has a number of deadly creatures living there, but I don't think Centaurs are known for killing students. Need more details?" 

Harry pressed his lips together, looking very angry for a moment, then went back to eating. Sirius was surprised that Harry wasn't arguing with him anymore, and took a moment to stop and think. Perhaps he was using silence and indifference to bait Sirius. Well, it wouldn't work. 

They finished their food without another word. Before they stood up, Harry spoke. "I figured the Hogwarts thing was a crap shoot since your name really isn't Stuart. I also forgot to tell you that I know you wear a glamour." 

"Nope, this ugly face is all mine." 

"It's not ugly, and I saw your eye colour change." 

"My eye colour didn't change," Sirius scoffed. 

"What colour are your eyes?" Harry asked smugly. 

"They're—" Fuck! Sirius couldn't remember the colour eyes this face had. He was pretty sure they were boring-as-hell brown, but he wasn't positive, and he wasn't about to answer incorrectly. 

"When we met in the pub and you told me to go fuck another bloke, I thought for a minute yours eyes did something funny, but I figured I was pissed out of my mind so I imagined it. Then when I saw you last night right before Philpott died, and you looked —really looked— at me, your eye colour changed. Today in the lift they stayed that colour. Your disguise isn't very strong magic. "

"You saw me last night? When I was in that room? You didn't see something else?" Sirius had been sure that Harry had seen him as Padfoot, not as a human. How was it possible Harry saw him at all, and even more puzzling, not in the shape he was taking at the time?

"No, I saw you." 

"Fine. What colour are my eyes?"

"They're grey." 

"No, they aren't." Sirius was certain of this. Nothing of his current look remained as it once had been. 

"They were brown with your disguise and now they are grey, which I am going to guess is their actual colour." 

"I am not wearing a glamour!" Sirius yelled a little too loudly. People behind the counter looked their direction momentarily. 

Harry waited until everyone stopped looking before he spoke. "Then what happened to your eyes?"

"I don't know." Sirius felt a little panicked. What the hell was going on here? "I know my eyes aren't grey. At least they haven't been for a very long time." This was getting to be far too much. Sirius wanted to get up and leave, and never see Harry again. It was amusing when Harry couldn't be more wrong about him, but it was exhilarating that Harry was right about something, as if Harry alone was the one who could see who he really was. 

"I saw something today," Harry said in a hushed voice. 

"What?" Sirius was sure Harry was going to bring up Norma and the impossible look they'd exchanged.

"In the lift. You were pissed off at me, but then you smiled. I know your smile. I don't know how the hell I know who you are, but I know you." Sirius wasn't expecting that at all. Maybe he imagined Harry looking at him.

"Why are you telling me this? You have no idea what's going on. This could be dangerous, for all you know. Maybe even deadly," Sirius said. 

"Because—" Harry took a deep breath and shrugged. "Because. Like I said in the lift, I trust you. I wasn't really worried that you wouldn't show tonight. Despite the fact that in the past twenty four hours, two people have died and you've been around when it's happened, I know you weren't responsible for their deaths." 

"You were around when they died, too." 

"That's not the point. The point is, right now I'm trying to figure why you've suddenly become so important to me. I should know better than to tell you this, but I don't care. There's something about you that pulls me in, and I want to know who you are. " 

"Let's go for a walk." Sirius rose from his chair and walked out. He didn't wait for Harry; he knew he would follow. 

It was dark and even colder outside now, the last remnants of the sun's warmth having completely vanished. The streets were a little less crowded now that it was after seven, and most people were home after a long day of work. Sirius and Harry walked side by side on the pavement, no intended path in mind.

"How much do you know about gods and folklore?" 

"Like Zeus?" Harry replied. Sirius nodded slightly. "Not too much."

"What about fairy stories and legends?" 

"A little bit, but not a lot." 

"You do know that in a lot of those legends there is truth." 

Harry laughed humourlessly. "You have no idea how well I know that." 

"That helps." Sirius and Harry turned east, walking towards the Thames. 

"I know that there was more to the Tale of the Three Brothers and the legends of the Hallows than just a children's story and old folklore. A lot more." Sirius smiled. Harry was getting this much faster than he could have anticipated. It helped that he seemed willing to believe even the most unbelievable. 

"What about the people in the old tales?" Sirius said casually. 

"As in, there really was a woman who lived with seven little men?" Harry said with a wry smile. 

"What?" Sirius had no idea what Harry was talking about. 

"It's a Muggle story."

"Told you I was pure-blooded." 

"I guess I can believe that now." Harry rolled his eyes at Sirius's snotty tone. 

"What about the people in the story you were just talking about?" Sirius wanted Harry to keep going. He was so close to the answer. 

"The three brothers? If they were real, they're long since dead, aren't they?" 

Sirius knew he couldn't tell Harry who he was, but what could be the harm in helping him put the pieces together to get the picture? "What about the fourth character?" With that question Sirius all but dropped the answer on Harry's head.

"Death?" Harry shot Sirius a look, his mouth slightly agape and eyes wide. "No, death doesn't work like that." 

"Says who?" 

"Says me. I've seen a lot of people die." 

"What about their souls? Who takes care of that part?" 

"Do I look like a vicar?" 

"For the love of Merlin, Harry, you've seen me three times; once we happened to be in the same pub, and the other two times people were about to die or had just died. It wasn't a coincidence that I was around when people died," Sirius said, his voice almost vicious with anger.

Harry stopped for a moment, looked directly at Sirius, his eyes narrowed, then kept walking without saying a word. They turned down another road and walked along the Thames, watching the occasional boat go by. Sirius left Harry to his silent ruminations, not prodding him to talk. Not everyone had dinner and took a walk by the Thames every day with "Death". They stopped and looked at the river for a moment, and then Harry finally spoke. 

"No wonder I think I know you so well. Been taking people out of my life for a long time, haven't you?" The comment stung Sirius far more than Harry could possibly know. Even though Harry had no way of knowing that the job hadn't been his when James and Lily died, he still thought of Harry's parents frequently, and no one regretted their deaths more than him.

"That wasn't me, exactly, and if I did, it wasn’t by choice." The turn of the conversation to something so grave made Sirius's insides squirm. He wanted to lighten the mood. "From what I hear, you have my cloak. It'd be nice if you returned it."

"Right." Harry didn't seem to respond to the joke at all. Perhaps he didn't know Sirius was joking. "So how old is Death anyway?" 

"Death itself is always around, always has been and always will be. It's ageless. As for myself, I do have an age, and trust me, I'm not that old. It's just my turn to have the job." 

"Right." Harry nodded and looked away. Sirius had to restrain himself from reaching out and hugging him. He could see the corners of Harry's lips turn down and his shoulders sink in a little, and he knew Harry was confused and sad. He wanted to make that better but didn't know if he was allowed to. 

"I'm not really supposed to tell you anything. I had to let you figure it out. You all right?" 

"Yeah, fantastic," Harry said, and rolled his eyes. "If you don't mind, I think I'm going to go."

"Scared you away? I tend to do that to people," Sirius joked, but it only garnered a courtesy laugh from Harry. 

"No, actually. I just need.... I know it sounds daft, now I know who—what—you are, but I really would like to see you again. If that's all right?" Sirius nodded. "I'm knackered. It's been a long day with Philpott last night, that secretary this morning, and now this. I should get some sleep. Send me an owl when we can meet next. Does Death have an owl, or is it a raven?"

"I have an owl. Maybe I shouldn't—"

"No, it's fine. Really. Good night, and um—thanks." 

Sirius smiled and waved goodbye to Harry, then turned and walked away. 

~*~*~

 

The next morning, Sirius owled Harry almost immediately. In between offing a wizard who was older than dirt and going to Gringotts, Sirius waited and waited for a reply. He heard nothing the first day, nor the second, nor the week that followed. He would have wondered if Harry was dead if it weren't for the fact he would be the first to know.

Sirius finally stopped waiting for a reply. He figured he had scared Harry off, which was what he'd wanted in the first place. For Harry to have no interest in him. There was no hope of them having any sort of relationship. He returned to the pub instead of wearing the floor thin in his flat, waiting for a message from Harry that never came. 

Halfway through his third gin and tonic, he noticed someone walking toward him. He glanced up for a moment and saw Harry. Sirius looked back down, concentrating on his drink. He wanted to smile at Harry, but it would be better for Harry to stay away. 

"I hadn't realized Death could pout," Harry said with a tinge of humour in his voice. 

"Not pouting." Sirius tossed back the remains of his drink and ordered another. Harry just laughed. "I said I wasn't pouting," Sirius barked.

"Then you're angry with me. I'm touched. I hadn't realized I had the power to stir such a strong emotion in Death." Harry sat down next to Sirius and ordered a pint. 

"Look!" Sirius turned on his stool to face Harry. "You're the one who wanted to know who I was. You figured it out, and then you disappeared. Fine. I'm just giving you the chance to go away permanently." 

"It's not exactly like you’re the sort of person I meet every day," Harry pointed out. "I wasn't ignoring you. I was busy, and then I had a wedding to go to. I've been away and I just got back." 

"Sending an owl takes so much effort." 

"By time I was ready to send one.... I kept meaning to, but kept forgetting. That's why I came to find you." 

Sirius huffed and turned away, back to his drink. He took a few sips, trying to make the blood stop pounding in his ears. "Who got married?"

"My best friend." 

"Oh right, the one with the sister you didn't shag and the brother that you did." 

"You know about that?" Harry's eyes widened with surprise. 

"You told me about it, you know, when we met." Sirius waved his hand, gesturing toward the area of the pub where they had sat when they had first spoken.

"Oh, right. Didn’t remember. I was rather pissed." Harry sounded sheepish over the fact he had been drunk in front of him. 

"Hmm." Sirius quirked his lip. He could feel himself forgiving Harry, something he wasn't quite ready to do yet, so he decided to change the subject. "So how was the wedding?"

"Boring." 

"They tend to be that way. Except the stag party. You shag his brother again?" Sirius meant the question to be a bit of a joke, but when he said it, he was suddenly worried Harry had shagged his friend's brother. Worse than that, Sirius didn't want Harry to answer the question, but still desperately wanted to know. 

Harry, thank Merlin, laughed and shook his head. The sudden dryness in Sirius's throat faded away. "No. That's long since over and done with." 

"That's too bad," Sirius said, recovering his voice nicely. Now that he knew Harry hadn't slept with anyone, he could think straight again. Not that he cared what Harry did with his cock. It was natural for him to care about Harry; he was his godson after all. Sirius looked up at Harry who, for some reason, seemed to be a bit confused by what Sirius had said. 

Harry cleared his throat and said, "I came here to see if you wanted to have dinner with me again. I thought we could talk some more." 

Sirius hesitated in replying. He wanted to go, but he and Harry could not become friends. 

"I promise it'll be something better than a cold sandwich, and you can help me try to figure this whole thing out." Harry's eyes shone with hope, and his lips looked like they were repressing a smile. 

Sirius shrugged. "Why not?" He slid off the stool and placed a couple coins on the bar to pay for the drinks. 

They went to a Thai restaurant that Harry said wasn't too far from his flat. It was nothing fancy and probably the exact sort of place Sirius would have picked himself. 

Harry talked about a few ongoing investigations he was working on, and the trial they were preparing for, which concerned the smuggling ring they had just broken up. He seemed to be talking a bit too much, as if he were nervous. Not that he appeared uncomfortable; it was more like a thrum of energy radiating from somewhere just beneath the surface. Sirius didn't mind. He liked being around Harry, and could listen to him prattle on for hours. Eventually Harry brought the discussion back to more personal and pressing issues. 

"You said you don't technically work for the Ministry. What does that mean exactly?" 

"They can't tell me who's next, or when it's someone's time. Those are things not even they know."

"Then how is it you work for them?" 

"They pay me, and I report to an Unspeakable there. He makes sure I haven't run into any trouble, and that there's enough money in Gringotts for me to live on."

"You have a Gringotts account? Aren't the goblins suspicious?"

"Goblins don’t give a shit about that. As long as the gold is in their vaults, they couldn't care less if I was the next great dark wizard." 

"So the money isn't in an account that was yours when you were—I don't think alive is the right word, but that's what I mean."

"No, that money is gone. The pay I get now goes into a different account just for doing what I do," Sirius said with a little bit laugh. 

"What about the money you had when you were you before? Where did that go?" Harry asked, trying to sound as if his question was very innocent.

"To my heir," Sirius said, and smiled. 

"Who's that?" 

"Nice try." 

"What?" Harry's voice cracked slightly. 

"Can't tell you who I was, but that was a nice shot." Sirius shook his head, a little bit proud of Harry for trying anyway. "Not even my Unspeakable knows who I used to be." 

"Really? Why's that?" 

Sirius shrugged. "Not sure. Though being alone is part of the job. I'm not exactly here for shits and giggles. If I looked like me, I might not be alone." 

"Do they ever try to guess who you are?"

"Nope." Sirius put down his fork now that he was finished with his food. 

The bill came and they argued over who should pay. Sirius insisted since his work mostly involved long periods of sitting in a pub, waiting for his next assignment. He could have let Harry pay, considering he was swimming in galleons—which included all of Sirius's galleons—but it didn't matter.

They walked out of the restaurant and Harry gestured to the right. "You can walk me back to my flat, and you can tell me who your Unspeakable is on the way. I'm sure it's someone I know."

"I think he's about your age."

"Then it's probably someone I went to school with—no, don't tell me, let me think for a minute." Harry lips went in to a pouty sort of line while he thought, and his brows twitched ever so slightly. If Sirius were honest with himself, he would have said he found the face a little endearing, maybe even appealing. 

"Goldstein," Harry finally answered. "He's an Unspeakable, right?"

"He might be, but he's not the one I work with. You must be a wretched Auror. You're complete pants at guessing correctly." Sirius laughed at Harry. 

"That's not fair. This isn't the same thing!"

Sirius was still laughing. "Yes, it is. You put the clues together and the problem is solved." 

"You haven't given me any clues other than he's about my age." 

"There aren't a large number of Unspeakables running about. I thought that would be a good enough hint." 

"Obviously it wasn't," Harry said, not finding the humour in the situation at all.

"Fine." Sirius snickered at Harry for being so upset over something so unimportant. "It's Dean Thomas."

"Pffft. He's not an Unspeakable. He works in the Broom Regulation Department or something like that." 

"Says who?" 

"Says me! He failed the exam for International Relations and they stuck him with that crap job. This is where I live." Harry pointed to a door and led Sirius up the steps.

"Maybe he did so well on the exam that he was chosen for another job," Sirius said as Harry tapped his door with his wand.

"I would know if he was." 

Sirius rolled his eyes, determined not to give up the argument until Harry realised how daft he was. He followed Harry into his flat. 

"Harry, don't be thick. There are secrets in the Ministry not even the Minister knows."

"That's not true," Harry scoffed. 

"After all you've been through, you still think everything is as it appears?" 

"No, because of all I've been through. The Ministry isn't what it used to be." Harry took off his cloak and threw it over the back of a chair.

"Better or not, governments will always have secrets. Dean Thomas is an Unspeakable, I promise you that. He doesn't work some shit desk job regulating broom tail length. I'll bet there are a number of other things you don't know about the Ministry." 

Harry grumbled and walked towards his kitchen, shaking his head and muttering something about Dean and secrets and know-it-all people under his breath. Sirius wasn't quite a know-it-all, but he did enjoy proving he was right.

"Tea?" Harry yelled from the kitchen

"Sure." Sirius took off his cloak and threw it next to Harry's. 

Harry's flat was surprisingly clean, considering that James and Lily had both been slobs. It had two large windows that looked down to the street below, and a fireplace on the adjoining wall. On the mantel, Harry had various photos displayed. Sirius took a slight step away from it. He didn't want to look at the pictures of the people Harry had in his life. There could be a picture of Harry's parents, or worse, a picture of Remus's son, which was something he really didn't want to see. 

Sirius turned away from the mantle to face the sofa. It looked like something a girl might choose and a bloke would allow simply because he didn't want to argue anymore. Harry walked back in the room, catching Sirius staring at it. 

"My friend, Hermione, she picked that out, not me," Harry said, carrying two cups of tea.

"You don't sound too keen on it." 

"Some things are easier to not argue with her about. Besides, it's comfortable, and that's all that really matters to me. Here." Harry handed Sirius his cup and then set his own on the table. 

"Does Dean give you a list of people or something like that?" Harry asked as he sat down on his sofa.

"No, that's how I don't work for the Ministry. They don't have any authority over me. As much as they would want to, there are a lot of things they can't control." Sirius took a seat next to Harry. He was right; it was a comfortable sofa. 

"How do you know when it's someone's time?" 

Sirius stretched out his right arm and held his wrist so Harry could clearly see the large silver watch he wore. "My watch." 

"You must have to check it all the time."

"Nah, I hear it, feel it. Get this feeling in my bones that it's someone's time."

"That's—er—weird." Harry leaned forward to take a sip of his tea. 

"Tell me about it," Sirius said, putting his arm down. 

"No, bring that back. Let me see what Death's watch looks like." Harry reached for Sirius's arm, and Sirius pushed back his sleeve so that they could see his watch better. "Tell me how it works."

Sirius showed Harry that the watch. It looked like a fairly normal wizarding watch. It was silver with an iridescent face, and it had Roman numerals. On its face were three other tiny circles - one for the month, one for the day, and one that tracked the cycles of the moon. Harry held softly but firmly to Sirius's wrist, studying the watch as he listened to Sirius explain. 

"It makes an unusual kind of tick sound, and when I look at it, the numbers disappear, and instead I see the name of a witch or wizard and their location. I can press this button here—" Sirius pointed to one of the tiny knobs on the right side, his hand brushing against Harry's, "—and it will switch back to the time for a moment." Sirius also showed how it was impossible to change the time, despite the knob on the side that would have done so on a normal watch. 

They were sitting very close, both of them looking at the watch, and Harry still held on to Sirius's wrist. Sirius glanced from the watch to Harry face. He was so close, he couldn't help but study it for a minute. He had long black lashes, his eyes bright behind his glasses. Sirius had never found Lily's eyes all that special, but somehow on Harry they were more stunning and appealing. Harry had high cheekbones, and Sirius could imagine how his lashes would lay across them as he slept. Harry's chin looked as if he hadn't shaved in a couple days, the dark stubble playing well with his Harry's full bottom lip. He wondered what it would be like to touch that lip, to kiss it, and feel it between his own lips, then lower, tracing kisses down to—

"Huh, that's funny," Harry said, interrupting Sirius's thoughts. 

"What?"

"The hair on your arms. It's dark like mine, but the hair on your head is much lighter." 

Sirius looked down and saw that Harry was right. The hair on his arms was dark, just like it had been when he'd been his real self. He was pretty sure it had been lighter, or was supposed to be, but he never paid much attention to his appearance in this incarnation. 

"Your eyes, they're still grey. I liked them better that way." Harry moved closer to Sirius, and he felt a strange desire, almost a twinge, to move closer as well To feel the brush of Harry's mouth on his own, to feel the slide of his tongue on his own. It had been a long time since he'd kissed someone. Harry was so close he could smell his skin. Sirius couldn't remember why he had waited so long.

Harry let go of Sirius's wrist and cupped his face with his hand. Sirius's arm fell to his lap, his watch hitting him in the leg. His watch—Death's watch. Sirius pulled away quickly. 

He wasn't Sirius, he was Death, and he hadn't kissed anyone in so long because he usually had enough sense to remember who he was now, and why he was here. Not only couldn't he afford the luxury of friendship, but it simply wasn't an avenue that was open to him. 

"I've got to go!" Sirius jumped up from the sofa, running for his cloak.

"I'm—I'm sorry—" Harry nearly shouted, jumping up to follow Sirius. "I didn't mean to—it's just I feel like I know you somehow. I don't know why I'm so comfortable around you." He looked a little awkward, not knowing exactly what to say, and he took a step towards Sirius. 

Sirius put his hand up to stop Harry; he didn't want to get close again. The urge to kiss Harry still raced through his body. "Don't apologize. It's my fault. I shouldn't have even agreed to come back. I—I'll talk to you later." 

Sirius left Harry's flat as quickly as he could, not even bothering to throw on his cloak against the bitter cold. He was utter shit at resisting his urges, and had he stayed another second, he'd probably already have Harry naked on the floor on all fours. Or maybe in the bed, hands above his head, legs spread wide—

"Shit!" Sirius cursed at himself, trying to drive the thoughts from his head. His cock was getting harder with each one, and if he didn't control himself, by time he reached his own flat he'd have come all over himself. Apparently it had been too long since he'd had a good shag—he wasn't allowed to have relationships, or so he had been told. Sirius had never really tested that rule because he'd never had to. 

People like Remus might greet Death like the old friend he'd turned out to be, but it was still completely wretched to walk up to a person and know their life was over while they were oblivious to the fact. He could be experiencing orgasmic bliss with them one minute, and taking their soul the next. He had taken the souls of people he had cared for, and it wasn't something he would consider a pleasure. In fact, he'd discovered that having an emotional connection with anyone hurt, and the notion of experiencing a continuous cycle of grief, watching people he cared for grow old—or not— and die was something Sirius didn't want to endure. 

Sirius wasn't without needs, however. He used to shag the bloke that lived downstairs on a regular basis, but they didn't exactly see eye to eye on things. He wanted a relationship and Sirius just wanted to ejaculate. It had ended faster than a quick wank. That had been more than seven years ago, and Sirius hadn't sought out another partner since. He'd gone longer than seven years without sex though; Azkaban wasn't known for its conjugal visits. 

He walked as quickly as he could away from Harry's flat. It was times like this, more than any other, that Sirius would have killed to get his motorcycle back, or not killed, whichever it took. He ached to feel its rumble, to ride and fly with the wind beating and tearing at him, purging whatever he was feeling on the inside. He suddenly wanted Harry, ached for Harry, and it was complete shit that he couldn't have him. It would only get worse if Sirius listened to the part of himself that wanted to turn around. He needed his bike, but since that wasn't an option, he needed something that would purge these emotions—these damnable feelings he couldn't afford to have for anyone, especially Harry— and restore his indifference and purpose here in the land of the living. He had to find the place that was deep inside him and quintessentially Black. 

Sirius could be cold and calculating when necessity demanded it. It was something genetically coded into all Blacks, he was sure. He could and would do anything to protect Harry, and if that meant staying away and being alone for all eternity then Sirius would do just that. 

He did have one sanctuary, one that had saved him from the worst of Azkaban. One that was familiar and safe, and guaranteed at least a few hours of uncomplicated thought, free of emotional entanglements. It was also much warmer, and he realised he was shivering.

He glanced around the street. It was mostly empty, but there were still far too many people about. He'd have to wait until he got home and brave the cold, or better yet, put on his cloak.

He threw the cloak over his shoulders and pulled the clasp, but couldn't get it to fasten. He tugged it again. "Fucking hell," he muttered. In his anxiousness to get out of Harry's flat, he had grabbed the wrong cloak. Harry's shoulders were not as broad as Sirius's, or rather the person Sirius was forced to look like. He checked the inner pocket, finding Harry's wallet with a Muggle driver's license and his badge. For a minute, Sirius thought of all the fun he could have with an Auror badge. In their youth, he and James would have considered it the means to the ultimate prank. Unfortunately, James wasn't here, nor was Remus, and he was no longer Sirius Black the discerning mischief maker. 

Sirius sighed and tucked the badge back in the pocket, since the enticement of its potential fun was lost when there was no one to properly share it with. He pulled the cloak off; he would have to return it to Harry. He could leave the cloak outside Harry's door, and Harry could owl his back. That would be the end of it. 

As Sirius turned onto the street where Harry's flat was, he saw Harry sitting on his steps having a smoke. Sirius stepped back, hiding in the shadow of the building so he could watch Harry. 

Harry sat a little curled in on himself, shoulders slumped, ankles crossed, and knees pulled close to his chest. Sirius could even tell from this distance that Harry's brows were knitted together in thought. He shivered as he took a drag of his cigarette. Sirius rolled his eyes. If the idiot was going to sit outside without a cloak, he could at least use a warming charm. Or maybe it was the cold Harry wanted, to damp out the fire that had surged through his body when he was touching Sirius. Harry flicked the ash of his cigarette with his thumb, then put it to his lips again. After a long slow pull, he rested his chin on his hands. 

Technically Sirius was too far away to see them, but he could have sworn Harry's eyes glowed green through the darkness. They were so bright but looked lost and sad. Sirius could imagine his lids looking heavy, giving his face a very weary sort of appearance. He supposed Harry was allowed to be weary. Having people dying around you and then suddenly finding yourself in the company of Death himself was draining in itself. To then discover that you were apparently attracted to him.... 

Sirius snorted a little. Technically he wasn’t alive, and he didn't look like himself when not gathering souls. He was a layabout, and yet, despite all that, he'd still managed to somehow attract Harry. Perhaps his charms were better than he thought. Even more surprising than that was that he wanted Harry, too. Not just to do all manner of filthy things with, but to hold, and touch, and... 

Sod this! Since when did Sirius Black give a shit about the rules? Besides, he wasn't going to hurt anyone but himself, and if it meant having something he wanted, something meaningful to assuage this existence, even for a little while, he could handle that. 

Sirius stepped out of the shadows and strode purposefully towards the steps where Harry sat. Harry's head quickly snapped up at the sound of Sirius's shoes clicking on the pavement. His mouth dropped open, and his eyes widened in shock, as if he were seeing a ghost. He jumped from where he sat, his fag forgotten on the cement. 

"Jesus Christ! It's you!" 

Sirius moved to step up the stairs so that he could pull Harry to him. "I want you—" 

"Sirius? I thought…but then…I was sure…"

Sirius froze. "What? You can see me?" He looked around, panic stricken, almost expecting the ground to swallow him up at any moment.

"At the Ministry when that old bird died, I saw you, and bloody hell, it is you!" Harry bounded down the steps, practically bowling Sirius over as he embraced him. "Your glamour sucks."

"I told you it wasn't a glamour." Sirius pulled his head back to look at Harry's face. His cheeks and nose were brushed with the faintest tinge of pink from the cold. It made his eyes that much more striking. 

"But then why? Why can I see you? Why the disguise?" 

"It's what they gave me. I don't know why it's not working on you." Sirius reached up, tenderly brushing his hand across the side of Harry's head. 

"You look just like you did when I last saw you—in the forest. You're so young. That was you, wasn’t it?" 

"I was there. I think I live sort of in between. I'm not exactly alive, despite what you see. If I was, I wouldn't have let you face all that shit alone." 

"Bugger that. You're alive as far as I can tell." Harry leaned in to kiss Sirius, and this time Sirius didn't pull away. Sirius felt electric with the thrill of looking like himself again; it was bloody fantastic. Harry's cold face pressing against him only increased the heat. Sirius pulled him closer, wanting to burn away Harry's chill. 

Harry soft mouth and smooth lips tasted of the forgotten cigarette. Sirius breathed in sharply, deepening the kiss. His tongue slid along Harry's into his mouth, and it was everything a mouth ought to be. Sirius groaned, thinking about that mouth on his cock. Harry held tight to Sirius's shirt and stepped backwards up the stairs, pulling Sirius with him. Sirius heard something crackle as he stepped on it—the pack of cigarettes. 

"Since when do you smoke?" Sirius asked, his lips still brushing Harry's. 

"Since when do you care? I smelled smoke on you when you lived at Grimmauld Place." 

"I don't, I just didn't know that you did." Sirius felt Harry's lips smile against his own, and his eyes flashed with lust. 

"I'll show you all the things you don't know about me." 

Harry reached back and turned the doorknob, pushed open the door, dragged Sirius through it, and slammed it shut behind them. Sirius tugged Harry's jumper over his head as he toed off his shoes. He tripped slightly over Harry's trainers, but kept steady by busying his mouth with Harry's. 

"I brought back your cloak. Grabbed it by mistake."

"The point is to take clothes off, not offer them to me." Harry took the cloak and threw it on the floor with the growing number of discarded clothes. 

They were almost to the bedroom; Sirius was completely naked and Harry only had his pants on. Their pricks rubbed against each other as they kissed, and their hands roved over whatever skin they could reach. Sirius traced a path with his tongue down the column of Harry's neck, while Harry gripped Sirius's hair tight, holding him close. 

Sirius slid his hand down Harry's stomach, beneath the waistband of his pants, and teased his cock with the tips of his fingers. Harry pressed his leg between Sirius's, giving his cock a small bit of the attention it needed.

They didn't quite make it to the bedroom. Sirius pushed Harry into the doorframe. They kissed again, and there was no gentleness to it; it was all raw, hungry kissing. Sirius's prick ached for more attention than just Harry's very sexy thigh rubbing against it. He quickly pulled Harry's pants down, angling his hips so that his cock was right next to Harry's, wrapped his hand around both cocks as best he could, and stroked them with the same intensity at which they kissed. 

Harry wrapped one leg around Sirius, angling for more leverage, and thrusting his hips quickly to keep up with Sirius's strokes. Sirius gripped tight to the doorframe, using all the strength in his fingers to help him thrust into Harry. He used his body to keep them upright. Harry's face had quickly lost the red colour from the cold, but was now flushed pink from heat and desire. His glasses had fogged up from the quick change of temperature. Harry didn’t seem to mind, as he had begun to articulate the most impressive stream of curse words, pleas, and oaths Sirius had ever heard. 

Sirius's body stiffened as the first waves of orgasm went through him. He kept the steady rhythm of his hand, bringing himself to completion. Harry's body stilled as he came, their sticky, hot come mixing on their cocks and in between Sirius's fingers. 

Slowly and gently, Sirius stopped his hand and slumped against Harry as he gasped for air. Harry, who obviously had more wits about him at this point than Sirius did—because Sirius would have happily collapsed in the doorway—pulled him the remaining distance to the bed. Harry threw back the blankets and deposited them on the soft, welcoming mattress. 

As they lay down together, holding one another, Sirius wondered why he had gone so long without sex. He had obviously gone a bit mental, because there was nothing like the exhilaration he felt as he lay naked, covered in come and sweat, holding on to Harry. 

Harry's room was mostly dark objects and shadows to Sirius. The only light was courtesy of the lamps in the other room, their distant light filtering through the open doorway. He was so relaxed, and the light was so soft that Sirius drifted off. 

He awoke later, still in the same position in which he had fallen asleep. He wiggled; his arm had fallen asleep underneath him. Harry rolled slightly away so that Sirius could move more freely. He looked over at Harry, whose eyes looked heavy again, but his lips were curved in a contented smile. 

"Sorry, did I wake you?" 

Harry shook his head. "Nah, I don't sleep too well." 

"Lethifolds under your bed?" Sirius said with a smirk. 

"What?" 

Sirius chuckled. He had forgotten that Harry wouldn't know those wizarding parenting tricks. "Sort of like the—what do Muggles call it?—boogey man, except for real. You know, something your parents would have told you to scare you into staying in bed. Though I don't think your mum would have said those things to you, and your dad would have only done it as a joke." 

Harry smiled warmly, slid closer to Sirius, and slowly kissed him. "What'd I do?" Sirius asked, a bit bemused as Harry shifted and kissed him tenderly on every inch of his face. 

"It's nice to be with someone who knows me and knows things about me that I don’t even know. There aren't a lot of people who know me like you. Probably no one who does, actually. You aren't going to expect anything of me." 

Sirius hadn't ever imagined that life for Harry, who saved everyone's sorry arse, would be so lonely or isolated. It couldn't be possible that Harry didn't have anyone. He wasn't all alone the way Sirius was. He comforted himself when he remembered Harry still had friends like Ron and Hermione. He had mentioned them both at some point. 

"God, I've wanted you for a long time." Harry moved closer, kissing Sirius with more purpose. 

"Really? The other bloke you've been with, or me?" He grinned slightly knowing it was his face, his voice, his body, and he could use all of its appeal to its full effect. 

"Either way, it's you."

"Except I'm much better looking," Sirius corrected, hooking his leg around Harry's hip and quickly rolling to press Harry to the bed.

"True, but your sexiness oozes from your pores, different face or not." Harry squirmed slightly as Sirius went to nip at the delicate skin on Harry's neck.

"Does that mean I'm also sexy as Padfoot?" Sirius mused, brushing a kiss against Harry's Adam's apple. 

"Let me see and I'll tell you."

"Fucking hell, you're depraved. About to shag your godfather for a second time, and you want me to be a dog before I do it." 

"Move your mouth lower and I'll show you what I really want you to do." Harry's eyes sparkled devilishly, and he snapped his hips against Sirius to prove his point. 

Sirius made his way down Harry's body, appreciating every inch with his lips and tongue. First Harry's neck, which was chafed from Sirius's face rubbing against it, then down past his collarbones to the smooth, strong plane of his chest. Harry's skin wasn't quite pale and wasn't quite tan; it was perfect. A small dark patch of hair nestled on Harry's sternum. It was perfect and he was perfect, despite the oval-shaped scar that marred the otherwise unmarked skin. Sirius moved his lips to the scar—right over Harry's heart—and lightly kissed it, then pressed his cheek against it. He wished this scar wasn't here. 

His eyes caught another scar on Harry's left forearm; a bite mark. Sirius moved to that scar, kissing it and wishing it away as well. Harry held still, almost as if he was commanding himself to be calm as Sirius touched him so. Harry's right hand twitched and Sirius's eyes flicked to the hand. I must not tell lies was shining in the half-light. 

Sirius lifted his left hand and placed it over Harry's, pressing down on the scars. A lump rose in the back of his throat. He didn't want Harry to have a single scar, especially not that one on his forehead. It was his fault that Harry had any at all. He would keep Harry safe now, and nothing would hurt him again. 

When Sirius looked up, Harry was watching him, making a pinched-together-eyebrows sort of face. Sirius reached up, smoothing the wrinkles from his brow, brushing his eyebrows away from one another. Sirius slid his fingers to the side of Harry's glasses, about to pull them off. 

"No." Harry reached up, touching Sirius's hand. "I like them on…when I'm with you." 

Sirius kissed Harry, and then moved down his body once more. Sirius didn't take as much time or pay as much attention to detail as he had before. He licked and kissed quicker, moving steadily down past Harry's chest to his navel. He slid his hands behind Harry to the small of his back, arching Harry up into his lips, and licked through the trail of hairs leading down to Harry's very hard prick.

Sirius rocked back on his knees and sat on his heels, dragging his fingers down Harry's thighs, digging into the firm muscles. He put his hands in the crook of Harry's still-knobbly knees, pulling them up and pushing them apart. Harry wriggled into the bed with anticipation, slowly exhaling through his mouth, and his eyes fluttered closed. Sirius slid his hands down Harry's calves, pressing into them the same way he had done on his thighs. He brought his own legs out from under him and lay chest-down on the bed, raising Harry's legs over his shoulders. 

Harry's legs were splayed as far apart as they could go. Sirius licked down Harry's balls to his entrance, delicately at first, moving his tongue around it. Harry moaned softly and eagerly pushed himself against Sirius's mouth. Sirius sucked and licked at Harry, who writhed and moaned the whole time, clearly enjoying it. His hands grasped tightly at Sirius's hair, urging him on, his balls pressing against Sirius's forehead. Sirius moaned, sending vibrations across Harry's body. 

Sirius pulled back, and Harry looked down at him, his expression a mix of desire and near-disappointment. Sirius grinned. "Where's your lube?" 

Harry rolled to his side, reaching for the bedside table drawer. He pulled out a half-empty bottle of lube, not bothering to shut the drawer. Sirius rose to his knees, sat back on his heels, and put his hand out for Harry to give him the bottle. 

"No," Harry said, sitting up. "Move to the foot of the bed." 

A thrill of anticipation stole through Sirius, and he quickly obeyed. 

Harry sat up, twisting around to throw the pillows off the bed; he then scooted so that his back was pressed against the suede padded headboard. He flipped open the bottle and placed a healthy dab of lube on his fingers, threw the bottle back in the open drawer, and looked at Sirius, his eyes heavy-lidded and his lips parted and curved slightly upward at the corners. He licked his lips and reached up behind him, gripping the headboard with one hand as he placed his feet flat on the bed and spread his legs far apart. Sirius's heart was pounding, his throat was tight, and his cock throbbed at the picture Harry presented, positioned that way. 

He lowered his hand to his hole, which was already a little swollen from Sirius's mouth. Harry circled the lube around, and then easily slid two fingers inside. He arched, moaning, and Sirius's hand flew to his own cock, utterly captivated and aroused from such a spectacular sight. 

Harry pushed another finger inside himself, moaning Sirius's name as he did so. He pushed his hips down onto his fingers, sliding them further inside, and let go of the bed with his other hand, wrapping it around his red, swollen prick. 

Watching Harry fuck himself almost paralyzed Sirius. All he could do was watch, his stroking hand almost an afterthought. It was fucking brilliant, and Harry looked fucking gorgeous; utterly debauched and wicked, and bloody fucking hot as hell. He desperately wanted to fuck Harry until they couldn't breathe anymore, and he planned to do just that shortly, but for the moment he feasted on the show. 

"God, you've got a gorgeous prick," Sirius said as Harry pumped his hips, moving his cock back and forth into his fist.

Harry looked at Sirius. "Not like yours. I want to suck you off—" Harry's words were cut short by a hiss as he twisted his fingers inside himself. Harry raised his eyebrows, wordlessly inviting Sirius to come enjoy the delights that his arse had to offer. 

Leaving his position at the foot of the bed, Sirius quickly moved towards Harry, who pulled his fingers free, got to his knees, and turned to face the headboard. Sirius kneed apart Harry's legs and positioned himself behind him. Sirius wasted no time, nudging the blunt head of his cock against Harry's arse. Harry greedily pushed his arse back, but Sirius pulled away slightly. He leaned forward and pressed his cheek to the side of Harry's head. 

"Tell me you want me to fuck you." Sirius's lips brushed the shell of Harry's ear as he spoke to him. "Tell me how you want it when I fuck you." Harry inhaled sharply and turned his head, pressing his lips against Sirius's cheek before he answered, his voice deep and almost like a purr. 

"You know I want you to fuck me. I know you want it, too; I saw the look in your eyes as I stretched myself. All you can think about right now is slamming into my arse. But I want you to go slow. I want to feel your balls brushing against me as you roll your hips into me." 

Sirius let out a long slow breath. He was already so desperate to come that it would take all of his control to give Harry what he wanted, but he wanted so badly to do just that.

He pressed one hand flat to Harry's back, pushing him slightly forward, and held onto the headboard with the other He slowly slid into Harry, the heat of his cock enveloped in Harry's heat. Harry snapped his hips, pressing his arse back to take Sirius deeper into him. Sirius bit down on his lower lip, urging himself not to come. Harry's movements had almost undone him. 

Just as Harry asked, Sirius gently rolled his hips into Harry's, moving his cock slowly, methodically. Harry was moaning and mewling, pushing his arse in time with Sirius as he held tight to the back of Sirius's thigh with one hand, and pressed the other flat against the headboard to hold himself up. 

Sirius fucked him slow, taking time for each roll of his hips. A tense feeling built in his muscles with each thrust, his body keening for release. He could feel his balls gently brushing against Harry's thighs with each deep thrust, just as he had requested. Harry let go Sirius's thigh and reached between their legs, cupping their balls together and rolling them in his palm. Sirius gasped and stilled inside of him. It felt like every muscle in Sirius's entire body was cramped and angry, shaking and begging to be released. His forehead felt damp with the effort of holding himself together. Harry pressed the tip of his finger against the smooth skin behind Sirius's balls, and stretched further still, just barely swiping it at the edge of his hole. 

"Keep that up and you'll make me come," Sirius warned through gritted teeth. Harry chuckled and slid his finger back, cupping Sirius's balls and putting a little more pressure on them. 

"How 'bout now?" 

"Oh, God, yes." Sirius tossed his head, slid back slowly and pushed into Harry, his thrusts building faster, raw need taking over him, unable to keep a slow steady motion. 

"Yes, like that. I want to hear your body slamming into me." Harry pushed back against Sirius, closing any distance between them and making him thrust shorter and faster. Sirius moved his hand from Harry's back to his front, slid it down his sweat-slicked torso, and wrapped it around Harry's neglected cock. He dropped his other hand from the headboard and grabbed tight to Harry's hip, holding him in place. 

Harry hands were now both holding to the headboard while Sirius fucked him mercilessly, slamming into his arse with a satisfying slapping sound. The cords of his arms jumped out as he pushed back, meeting every one of Sirius's thrusts with one of his own. 

"Yes, fuck me!" Harry cried out, throwing back his head, his glasses having slightly slid down the bridge of his nose from sweat.

Sirius tugged quicker and quicker, in time with his thrusting. Harry cried out as white hot come spilled from his cock. His arse flexed and tightened around Sirius's cock, and Sirius couldn't hold off any longer. He groaned long and loud as he filled Harry, slamming into him again and again. The wonderfully aching cramps of his muscles releasing were replaced by a blissful fluidity that only a really good orgasm could bring.

Harry was breathing heavily, and Sirius dropped his head, resting it atop Harry's as he panted along with him. Sirius slid his half-hard cock from Harry's arse and gently rolled Harry over onto his back. He looked down and saw Harry's come splattered across his stomach, dripping down the spaces between his cock and thighs. He lowered himself and traced his tongue through the slightly bitter-tasting come on Harry's belly. He brought his head up and soundly kissed Harry on his red, puffy lips. Harry smiled, cupping Sirius's jaw, and slid his tongue into Sirius's mouth. 

Sirius fell back on the bed, bringing Harry with him to hold at his side. Now. Now was the time for a smoke. The only time Sirius had ever really smoked was after a life-altering shag. Not that every shag could change your life, but if done the right way.... He thought of the crushed package of cigs outside and winced. He slid off the bed and headed out of the room. Harry called after him, protesting. 

"Sorry kid, I'm more a fuck and duck kind of guy," Sirius said, and laughed at his own joke. He found his jeans, his wand still in his pocket. He pulled it out and walked back to rejoin Harry in bed, plopping back down next to him, now fully prepared to enjoy their post-fornication moment. 

He gripped his wand firmly and snapped his wrist quickly, and a perfectly rolled cigarette appeared from the end. Harry rolled his eyes and smiled, taking the cigarette and placing it between his lips. He wrapped his hands around Sirius's left hand, bringing the tip of the wand to the cigarette dangling from his lips. Sirius muttered the spell, and the end of the fag burned red hot. 

Since neither caffeine nor alcohol worked on Sirius, he was pretty sure nicotine didn't either, but as he took a deep drag and exhaled slowly, the blue-grey smoke curling lazily in the still air, the cigarette felt every bit as wonderful as if it had. They lay silently beside one another, limbs tangled, heads so close it would be hard to tell whose hair was whose, and passed the cigarette back and forth. Sirius could have conjured another one, but he liked the taste of it after it had been in Harry's mouth. 

~*~*~

 

A hand pressed to Sirius's back in a gentle, familiar way before it dropped, and Harry took his seat next to Sirius. Harry was dressed in his best Auror robes—neither the ones he wore on normal workdays nor the ones with singe marks that he wore when he was in the field. 

"Trial today?" 

"What?" Harry looked down as if noticing for the first time what he was wearing. "Oh, no. It's the only thing I have clean. I keep getting distracted from doing the wash." 

"Why don't you hire someone to do it, or better yet, ask Kreacher." 

"Kreacher is just as likely to burn them as he is to wash them. He's old and happy just staying at home. I'm not hiring someone. It seems a bit opulent to hire someone to do something for me that I can do myself." 

Sirius laughed. Harry wouldn't have lasted five minutes in the house Sirius grew up in. He'd never told anyone, but he was fifteen before he even knew how to make a cup of tea. "I'll come over tonight and watch you do laundry. I promise not to distract you." 

"Mmmm, no," Harry said, taking a sip of the pumpkin juice Sirius had ordered for him. "Remember, I can't tonight. It's why we're having lunch not dinner. I'm going over to Ron and Hermione's tonight."

"All right, we'll play laundry wench tomorrow." 

Sirius hated the place they chose to eat. It was picked for its convenience to the Ministry, but that meant it was filled with Ministry people. They were interrupted three times before their food came, and people tried to pretend they weren't glancing at the table where Harry sat. He and Harry didn't go out in wizarding public often, but when they did it was always the same thing. Harry pretended not to mind because it bothered Sirius. When strangers stopped him, Harry was kind, but once they were gone he always let out a huge sigh of relief and would give Sirius that look that said, 'I wish I could walk into a shop without that happening for the twentieth time today.' It was a wonder that when Sirius first met Harry in the pub, he'd been alone and untroubled by the other patrons. 

No one ever looked twice at Sirius. In the month and a half he and Harry had been together, not once did anyone so much as say 'hello' to Sirius. To them, he still held that look of the overly boring, indistinct bloke he had been for almost ten years. 

After Harry saw Sirius as himself, Sirius thought maybe his disguise had slipped away altogether. When he'd looked in the mirror the morning after their first tryst, he saw himself staring back at him; his perfect grey-eyed, black-haired, velvety-browed, full-lipped, handsome self. However, when he had walked back to his flat that day and the landlady reminded him the rent was due, he realised that only Harry could see him. He'd been surprised she'd recognized him, and had asked her what colour his eyes were, to which she'd responded, "same as always, brown." Sirius didn’t know why Harry was able to see his true self, but he wasn't about to ask Dean about that. As far as Dean knew, Sirius was still doing everything by the book. 

"I think you should come with me tonight," Harry said as he doused his chips in vinegar and mustard, a combination which made Sirius's stomach turn slightly. 

"Where?"

"I'm having dinner with Ron and Hermione, remember? Anyway, you should come because they'll, or at least Hermione, will ask me about you." 

"Did you tell them about me?" 

"No. You didn't read the paper this morning." 

"Started to, but then some old wizard ate it up in Wales." 

Harry stood up and walked over to the bar and returned with the morning copy of the The Daily Prophet. He turned page after page until he found the right one, and put it in front of Sirius.

It was a picture of Harry, laughing over and over again as a man standing in front of him threw a scarf around his neck. The picture was taken over the man's shoulder so his face wasn't visible, only the back of his head. Sirius knew it was him, because he remembered the exact moment captured in the picture as they'd stood on Harry's front steps. It had been taken yesterday evening when they were leaving to go grab take-out. Harry had complained his scarf itched and made his neck turn red. Sirius had thrown his own scarf around Harry's neck. It was lamb's wool and much better than the one Harry had. Harry was laughing because Sirius had said that when they got back he expected Harry to only wear the scarf. 

The caption of the photo read: The Chosen One Has Chosen His One.

"How do they know we're not friends?" Sirius tossed the paper to the far edge of the table. 

"Probably followed us." Harry shrugged. "We must have held hands at some point." 

Sirius wrinkled his nose. It was lucky they hadn't caught a picture of his face. If they had and Dean saw it, no doubt Sirius would be in a shit pot of trouble. 

"Anyway. Now Hermione knows something at least, and I don't fancy sitting through dinner while she badgers me with questions, and Ron sighs and tells her to let up. I'd rather just bring you." 

"You can't let them do this, Harry. You can't let them take pictures of you and me. We'll get caught—I'll get caught." 

"They can't stop us."

"The hell they can't!" Sirius banged his fist on the table, sending the cutlery jumping. "I don't know what they'll do to me and I really don't care, but they might do something to you."

They'd had this argument before, two weeks ago. Harry wanted Sirius to come meet Teddy, and Sirius was set against it. There were various reasons he didn't want to see Remus's son, but most of all he wasn't going to endanger him just by taking him to the zoo. Harry said he would let it drop but he hadn't. Sirius could see the stubbornness in Harry's face, the way he set his jaw just so. He wasn't about to let this go. 

"Ron and Hermione won't tell anyone." Sirius opened his mouth to reply, but Harry suddenly jumped up from the table. "Loo!" he said, and dashed off to the restrooms. 

Sirius looked around, wondering what the hell had just happened. He turned to his right, and a girl stood by him looking rather confused. 

"Yes?" Sirius looked at the doe-eyed girl standing by the table. She hadn't even noticed he was there. She jumped slightly and looked at him in surprise.

"Excuse me. Was I mistaken or was Harry Potter just here?" She had a hopeful look of an autograph seeker about her.

"You know Harry?" 

"We've gone out before. I'm Sara, maybe he's mentioned me?" This wasn't the answer Sirius was expecting at all. He quickly flicked his eyes over the woman. She was medium height with a round face and tits so big, surely more than one man had drowned in them. 

"Of course, Sara. Sorry. Harry was here, but he had to dash back to the Ministry. You know, important and busy as he is." 

"Right. I'll try to find him some other time." She walked away looking a little defeated. Sirius didn't quite know how to feel about a bird Harry used to shag interrupting his lunch. 

Harry came back from wherever it was he had run to, and slumped in his chair. 

"Hope lunch didn't disagree with you. You missed a chance to talk to Sara." Sirius grinned, popping a piece of a chip into his mouth. 

"She told you her name?" 

"Yup. Said you went out couple times, wants you to come by and give her another good rogering." Harry looked very uncomfortable, and Sirius was enjoying every second of it. 

"It's not what you think." 

"Tell me what I'm thinking Harry, go ahead." Sirius leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers over his stomach.

"I'm not cheating on you." 

"I never thought that." 

"I—I—damn, this is hard. I'm not exactly good with people. I mean normal people, yes, but some people…don't want me for me, they want me because I'm you know…and sometimes I've used that to…to, ah, get what I want." 

"Like a really good shag?" 

"I'm not proud of it. I can't find people who want me, who know me and understand me. It's easier to fall into bed with someone than to actually get to know them or, God forbid, let them know me. Then I have a hard time making them go away."

"It was a bird."

"Yeah, well, sometimes I get confused." 

"Cheers." Sirius laughed at Harry. "So why didn't it work out with the Weasley? He must have known how you really were. Which one was it, the one Molly was always crying over?" 

"Percy? No." Harry chortled and shuddered slightly. "That was never going to be anything more than what it was." Harry returned to eating his food and shrugged. "Besides, none of that matters now. I found someone I'm in love with." Harry's free hand reached under the table and rested on Sirius's knee. 

Sirius's entire body suddenly felt very taut. Had Harry just said that? That word? He'd said it in the most matter-of-fact but offhanded sort of way that it left Sirius a little confused as to how he should respond. I love you, too would be insipid at this point. He decided to focus on finishing his sandwich, and put his other hand under the table, twining his fingers with Harry's. 

The waitress soon came to clear their plates and drop off the bill. Sirius had always insisted on paying because he made money for doing nothing, and Harry would want to pay because he insisted he actually had all of Sirius's money anyway. It had taken them two weeks to figure out a system where they alternated any meals eaten together. This time was Sirius's, and he reached for the bill, but Harry snatched it away before he got to it. Sirius put out his hand, wordlessly indicating that Harry needed to hand that over. 

"Why don't you come to dinner with me tonight? Ron and Hermione aren't about to take pictures of us and sell them to the press." Sirius growled slightly in the back of his throat. He didn't like being cornered and Harry happened to be pretty damn good at it. "I'll let you—"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, you'll let me do that anyway." 

"Please." 

Harry. His eyes were so sweet and lovely behind his square-rimmed glasses. His cheek twitched with that impish little half-smile that stole across his face. He quirked his brows in a way that could move from question to erotic suggestion in seconds flat. Harry. Sirius would do anything for him. 

"Of course. Now give me the bill." 

"I'll come to your flat after work." 

"Fine." Sirius reached into his pocket, taking out a few coins, and left them on the table. They stood and left the restaurant together, Sirius walking Harry back to the Ministry even though Harry could have just Apparated. It was an excuse to have an extra few minutes together. They ducked into an alley out of the view of other Ministry workers, possible photographers, and any other riffraff that might be hanging around. 

They kissed one another slowly and sweetly, mostly soft, full-lip kisses with slight flicks of their tongues. 

"I'm glad you're coming with me tonight."

"I would never let you go against a firing squad alone." Sirius leaned into Harry's lips one last time, and Harry laughed into the kiss. 

"Hermione can feel that way sometimes. Maybe now that I have you, she'll forgive me for what I did to her intern last summer." 

"You're such a slut," Sirius purred, brushing his hand across Harry's arse and kissing him appreciatively. 

They turned to part ways; Harry was going to be late if they didn't. Sirius walked down the street, turned around one last time, and found Harry watching him walk away. He stood with his hands in his pockets, looking tall and strong, and so very perfect. For a moment, Sirius was seized with the urge to call out to Harry and tell him he loved him. Sirius always did like grand displays, and yelling it out on a busy London street in broad daylight would definitely qualify. However, Harry was far more private, so he would just tell him later. 

The afternoon seemed to move along at a mind-numbing pace. Sirius hadn’t anticipated he would be particularly enthusiastic about going to dinner over at Harry's friends' place, but in some ways he supposed he was. He liked that Harry wanted him to come along, even if it was to avoid their interrogations. When someone knocked at the door after three, Sirius practically ran to answer it. 

"Thinking we'll get to that laundry before we go?" Sirius called as he opened the door. He was happy Harry had skived off work early to come spend time with him. No one else would come knocking at Sirius's door in the middle of the day.

"Go where?" 

Sirius tried not to show too much shock on his face, but he wasn't exactly expecting Dean to be on the other side of the door.

"Um, nowhere."

"And what's this about laundry?" Dean walked into Sirius's flat without being asked, not that Sirius minded, but it was obvious Dean wanted to get inside quickly. 

"I thought you were someone else. No one important." Dean nodded and turned to look around the place. He had been to Sirius's flat on only one other occasion. The goblins had been involved in a disagreement with the Ministry over compounding interest rates, and as such, all Ministry accounts had been frozen. Dean had come by to bring Sirius some much needed galleons, when the argument had stretched into its second month. 

Dean walked over to the bookshelf and looked at the various titles available. He seemed to be very engrossed in one book when he casually said, "We know about you and Harry."

Sirius crossed his arms and didn't reply. Dean turned around, raising his brows at Sirius. Sirius gave him the same face in return.

"Nothing to say about it?" 

"I don't have a response to something I know nothing about." 

Dean shook his head and scrubbed his hand across the back of his neck as if the situation made him uncomfortable. "The picture in the Prophet."

"You know, Dean, you should start talking more directly because I still don't know what the hell you're going on about." Sirius walked the short distance to his favourite chair and sat down, as if he were completely at ease. 

"We knew you were going about with Harry before. Now it needs to stop. We can't have pictures of you floating about." 

"What if I don't want to stop?" Sirius looked Dean directly in the eyes, his tone light but challenging. 

"You know the rules."

"I don't give a shit about the rules!" Sirius's composure snapped. He didn't want to have those fucking archaic, completely insane rules thrown in his face when it came to Harry. He did everything else they asked him to do, living this complete shit existence, and they weren't going to take away the one thing Sirius had. He deserved to have this happiness. "The Ministry doesn't control me." 

"You're right. We have to keep everyone else safe, and that's why this has to stop." Dean took a few steps towards Sirius, and Sirius rose out of the chair, standing up to his full height to show he would not be intimidated by some Ministry lackey. 

For the first time, Sirius noticed how tall Dean was; taller even than him. Dean gave an apologetic smile and spoke very quietly to Sirius. 

"Don't fight back on this one. If we catch you with Harry again, we'll have to erase his memory, and you know what that entails. We'll make sure you're not even a figment of his imagination." 

"You could completely addle his brains!" Sirius had his wand out pointing at Dean's face, his anger taking over any logical thought. 

"You know the consequences then." Dean left the flat without another word.

Sirius threw his wand across the room. He should have used it when he had the chance. It wasn't as if the Ministry could prosecute him. He dropped back into his chair, cursing himself for being a coward who didn't hex Dean when he had the chance, and for being a coward about Harry. He knew what the Ministry was capable of, and he knew he couldn't protect Harry from them twenty-four hours a day. He wouldn't risk Harry's safety and sanity, even though it meant he would never see Harry again. 

There were two deaths to attend to that night before Sirius could go home and attempt to get some sleep. Not that he stayed at home; he wasn't going to wait around for Harry to show up. He was going to have to move, because nothing short of that would keep Harry away. Harry was stubborn, probably just as stubborn as Sirius was himself. Besides, Sirius knew he couldn't allow himself to see Harry. If he did, he wasn't sure he could bring himself to walk away. 

Sirius undressed as he walked to his bed, tossing his clothes as he shed them, and didn't bother to light a lamp. The buckle of his belt made a dull thunk as it hit the floor. 

"Is there another wizarding war going on I should know about?" 

Sirius dove for his wand left in his discarded cloak as the voice came out of the darkness. His mind told him it was Harry only after his body reacted. The light flickered on, and Sirius lay on the floor breathless from being startled. 

"Fuck, Harry, you didn't have to ambush me like that!" 

"Is there? I mean, should I start roaming the countryside to make sure everyone I know is all right? I won't waste my time at Ron's and Hermione's. I know they're fine, seeing as I spent my entire damned evening there waiting for you to show up. That is, when I wasn't banging on your door. I'm figuring there must have been a slew of deaths tonight and that's why you've been gone."

"So you decided to break in." Harry gave Sirius a look that said they both knew Sirius would have done the same thing.

"You could have said 'no' instead of letting me think you were coming!" 

"Go home, Harry." Sirius knew it was a hopeless effort telling Harry that. Besides being stubborn, he was obviously spoiling for a fight. 

"That's it? You're going to tell me to go home." 

Sirius drew in a long breath to keep himself calm. "They know about us—"

"So what? They can't do anything about it."

"Yes, they can, Harry! Dean came here today, and if I don't stop, they'll Obliviate you and erase every memory you have of me." 

Harry snorted and took off his scarf and cloak, making himself comfortable. "I can take Dean." 

"I think they'll send more than one person." 

"I don't care. I'm not worried." Harry took off his jumper and unbuttoned his shirt. "Do you mind setting your alarm? I have to get up early so I have time to clean a set of robes."

"Haven't you heard a thing I've said?" Sirius shouted. The way Harry was ignoring the situation and acting as if everything was normal infuriated him. 

"Dean threatened you to stop seeing me, you didn't show for dinner because you were upset, and now we'll take care of any problems that come up. We're both capable wizards. Now, I'm getting undressed and getting into bed so you can come apologize for getting spooked." 

Sirius wanted that to be all it was. He wanted to crawl under the sheets with Harry and cradle his flesh in his hands, kiss him hard and hear the moans that would escape from their mouths. He couldn't do it. After a lifetime of risk taking, some more extreme than others, he'd finally come up against one he couldn't take. 

"No, you're going. It's over." 

"You're going to cower to some fucking Ministry lackey? That's so fucking pathetic, Sirius! This coming from the man who spent months pouting when I was fifteen because I wouldn't take a bloody risk. Well, I'm not that anxious, ignorant teenager anymore, and you! You aren't the person I thought you were at all." Harry's face was flushed with anger, and his eyes flashed dangerously at Sirius, as if there were a litany of hurtful things he was about to say. 

"They will take. Away. Your memory! They will take you away from me! If that makes me fucking pathetic—to be afraid of losing you and more afraid that you'll lose part of yourself—then damn it, I will be pathetic!" 

Harry crossed the distance to Sirius and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look him in the eye. Harry's eyes burned with passion and a fierceness that almost made Sirius wince. "If you're afraid then you fight for me. You help me fight them, and if they get me, then you make me remember!" 

"You don't know what it's like." As much as Sirius liked to be touched, especially by Harry, he pushed him away and stepped back. 

"Tell me what it's like." Harry reached for Sirius, and Sirius flinched. 

"Everyone looks at you Harry. We can't go anywhere without someone looking at you. No one—"

"I'm sorry everyone looks at me." 

"That's not it! No one looks at me. Not a single person. I'm invisible without being invisible. Do you know how that feels? To be ignored? I could be left in a sewer and people would step over me before they leant down to help me!" 

Harry pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and looked away. He nervously scratched at his stomach, then the back of his neck. "I know how it feels." 

"Then you know it's awful, that indifference can crush you. If you—" Sirius's words caught in his throat, but he had to make Harry understand. "If you didn't look at me if we passed on a street, or if you looked at me without a flicker of recognition, it would be the end of me."

"Fight for me like you always have! Make me remember!" Harry shouted, raising his voice even louder. 

"This isn't a choice I can make! I am not—"

"What? Available? Human? What?" 

"I am not a person. I am Death! I take souls and when I'm not doing that, I try to sit around and drink my way through my liver. Which is completely impossible, because I'm not fucking human. I am nothing!" 

"If you're nothing then why can I see you? Touch you? Feel your cock in my arse when you fuck me?"

"IT WAS ALL A MISTAKE! I CAN'T BE ANYTHING TO YOU! I DON'T WANT TO BE NOTHING WITH YOU! NOW GET OUT!" Sirius pointed to the door, his chest heaving with effort from yelling. Harry looked at Sirius with determination, his jaw set. 

"Gladly." Harry grabbed his discarded jumper, cloak and scarf. Sirius turned away from him, not watching him go, and jumped when the door slammed. 

~*~*~

 

If anything hurt about making Harry go, it was Harry's resilience. For someone so insistent that Sirius fight for him, he disappeared completely from Sirius's life with one slammed door. Sirius had stupidly assumed it would take more than one fight to make Harry go away. There were no drunken pleas, no showing up at his door, not even a fight where they ended up tearing at each other's clothes as their words tore at each other. It was as if the veil had slammed between them all over again. It was all over. 

The ache of Harry's complete disappearance all but crushed Sirius. He would reassure himself that the alternative—Harry's indifference—would succeed in crushing him completely, so he could tolerate this feeling. Nevertheless, Sirius only left his flat to meet with Dean or to take a soul. With every journey to the Ministry, Sirius would wish Harry were there waiting for him, waiting by the lifts, waiting to make Sirius come back. But again, Harry was resilient. Obviously he'd moved on.

Sirius didn't keep track of how long it had been since Harry had walked out. He'd had one meeting with his Unspeakable since, and he was on his way to another. It was probably about two months, give or take a week, but it didn't matter. Time didn't matter to him anymore. 

Dean, as usual, was waiting for Sirius. They had their usual inane discussion over money and any potential problems. Sirius said everything was fine and refused to say anything else. He couldn't exactly talk to Dean about sitting around his flat all day, trying to read a book, forgetting to eat, going to bed by five and having a wank before he attempted to sleep. 

"It's better this way." 

Sirius stopped flicking the sweetener packet he was playing with. Dean had diverted from their usual script. 

"What's better this way?" 

"I know it's not my place, but I've known you a long time and I know—" Dean paused and looked at Sirius, looked at him with pity. "I know you're likely bored and irritated, but it's better to leave Harry and let him have his own life."

"It wasn't about being bored." 

Dean leaned over the table to talk quietly. "Whatever it was about, it's better this way." 

Sirius roughly scooted his chair back and stood up. "Nothing's better this way." Instead of pushing his chair back in he shoved it, roughly banging it against the table. 

It was the first day of actual spring weather, and white puffy clouds dotted the soft blue sky. Sirius sneered at the sun, cursing its warm existence before Apparating home. He went about his flat, slamming the drapes shut. He could have easily done it with the flick of his wand, but it felt satisfying to do them one by one, slowly returning his flat to the grey light of winter, wanting nothing to do with the changing seasons. 

Without bothering to fully undress, Sirius got into his bed and pulled the covers over his head, waiting for the day to be over. 

Tick!

The sound that could creep into Sirius's bones roused him from his…his coma. An unwilling but needed sleep. 

The light from the watch burned Sirius's eyes as he tried to look at it. Not able to see the name clearly, Sirius stumbled out of bed, putting on his shoes and looking for his wand. He looked at his watch again and saw the name clearly this time.

Arabella Figg, Little Whinging.

"Bugger."

Sirius Apparated to Wisteria Walk, and tried not to think that not too far away was the house Harry grew up in. Or the place he had seen him right after he broke out of Azkaban. Not that those things mattered. They had been a part of his life, and what he was doing now had nothing to do with that time. 

It was early evening, and the sun was setting in the almost clear sky, setting the scene for a perfect starry night. Sirius opened the garden gate and walked up the path, almost tripping over a kneazle before he got to the door. He cursed under his breath, and thought for a moment about becoming Padfoot just to chase the damn thing for getting in his way. 

Mrs. Figg's door was unlocked, and Sirius quietly slipped into the house unnoticed. The house was well kept, save for the dishes of kneazle food on the floor, the window ledges, and a plant shelf here and there. The flowered furniture was worn, with knitted blankets thrown over the back of each one. On the mantle sat several pictures of various kneazles, each one in a different ornate frame. The way the pictures were arranged showed a great deal of care and love. A lump rose in Sirius's throat. Who would take care of all her animals? No one would love them like she had loved them. No one would want to look at them, want to help them. They would eventually be forgotten. 

Sirius cleared his throat and shook his head, moving away from the mantel towards the stairs. It was silly to get sentimental about some stupid old kneazles. If he kept looking, he would end up batty with hundreds of cats and kneazles to take care of, and a cross-stitched sampler on his wall that read, Honest as the Kneazle when the meat's out of reach. Just like Mrs. Figg. 

There were no signs of life on the first floor, so Sirius walked to the stairs. If he remembered correctly, Mrs. Figg was very old by this point, and she was most likely ailing in her bed, about to die from a malady she couldn't see coming. Not very different from how Mr. Figg had died.

Only one door was open upstairs, and Sirius walked immediately to it. He stopped in the doorway, the shock of the sight within rooting him to the spot. 

Old Mrs. Figg was lying in her bed under a blanket, very thin and pale, almost a skeleton in a nightdress. Every kneazle she could possibly own sat about the room, probably thirty all together. Two occupied a chair together, three were perched on the top of the wardrobe, most of the others were lying about the rug, and seven cats took up a place of honour on the bed with Mrs. Figg. The only space not occupied by Mrs. Figg or a kneazle was taken up by a dark haired man. He sat in a chair by the side of the bed, one hand holding Mrs. Figg's while the other rested under his head, which lay on the bed. 

Harry. 

He was facing the doorway, breathing softly as he slept. His clothes looked rumpled, his glasses crooked and smudged, and he had dark circles under his eyes. He had been there a long time. 

Tick! 

Sirius's watch reminded him of his task. He stepped lightly between the cats, making his way to the opposite side of the bed from Harry. Sirius knelt on the floor and took Mrs. Figg's other thin, papery hand in his own. 

Sensing someone there, Harry's eyes flitted open. He turned his head and looked across at Sirius. The redness of his eyes intensified the color of the irises; the green was sharp, as if it could cut right through Sirius, but Harry's expression was gentle and soft. 

"Is she going to die?" Harry's voice was soft and scratchy. 

"Yes." 

"My cousin, he called me…she had always been nice to me. I didn't want her to be alone." 

"You don't have to explain, I'm not angry." 

Harry nodded and wrapped his hand more firmly around Mrs. Figg's, whose breathing had gone very shallow. 

"Make sure you don't hurt her." 

"It never does." Sirius had to force himself to turn his gaze from Harry and onto the person he had come to take. He slid his hand from hers and gently touched her face. Her eyes opened halfway, and she looked at Sirius. 

"I didn't know Death would be handsome." Sirius quietly laughed at her sweet statement. 

"I couldn’t be any other way." 

"Don't scare the boy." 

"Who? Harry? Don't worry, he's not supposed to see me." 

Tick! 

Sirius held her warm cheek in his hand, and she closed her eyes as her soul left her body. 

Mrs. Figg's soul stood next to Sirius now, holding his other hand. She felt like the warm, soft, furry body of a cat, and Sirius could not imagine anything more fitting for Mrs. Figg's soul. 

"Can I come with you?" Harry asked, looking up at them. Sirius nodded, and Apparated himself and Mrs. Figg to the Ministry, with Harry close behind them. 

Harry silently followed as Sirius slowly led Mrs. Figg to the room that waited for her. 

"Stay here," Sirius instructed Harry, and led Mrs. Figg to the blue torch-lit room. She smiled sweetly as she left his hands and walked through the door that opened for them. 

Sirius walked out of the room and back into the corridor. Harry was waiting for him. 

He looked tired but immediately brightened when Sirius came back. For the first time in two months, Sirius didn't feel like hiding under his blankets. He didn't feel depleted. 

"Always managing to come back from death, aren't you?"

"In one way or another, yes." 

Sirius took a step forward, then another, and another, and before he realised it, he had embraced Harry, holding him tightly as he kissed him. 

He had always come back for Harry, and no matter the pain, he would do it again and again if he had to. If they found out and made Harry forget, Sirius would make him remember over and over again, as many times as it took.

~*~*~

"You look better." 

"Thank you. You look the same." 

Dean laughed. "Is that good or bad?" Sirius shrugged and Dean laughed harder. They shared a bench in the park, watching a group of teenagers play a casual game of football.

"You're seeing him again, aren't you?" 

Sirius looked up at the sun and squinted. There was no point in lying. "Yes." 

"Not going to stop, are you?" 

Sirius didn't reply. 

Dean looked at the kids laughing as they passed the ball around. He smiled and shook his head. "God help you if I ever get reassigned." 

Sirius gasped, shocked at what Dean was saying. "You aren't going to try and stop me?" 

"No." 

"Why are you doing that for me?" 

Dean turned his shoulders and looked directly at Sirius, a wry grin on his face. 

"Not just for you, for Harry, too. He lost you once before, and I'm not too keen on doing that to him again." 

Sirius stared at Dean, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. "Wait, you know who I am?" Dean didn't answer, but a wicked smile spread across his face. "Did you always know? Do they know?"

"No." Dean shook his head. "It took a few years. When we would talk and you would reveal parts of your real personality, I would catch glimpses. The disguise doesn't work when you allow yourself to be yourself. "

It was Sirius's turn to chuckle. "That can't be a good thing." He'd thought Harry could see him because of something Harry had done. 

"Just be careful, and I hope whatever you want with Harry is worth it." 

"I love him." 

Dean patted Sirius on the back and said, "More than worth it, then."

~*~


End file.
